


it traced us back (to where we began)

by blackwatchandromeda



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ...kind of??, Adoption, Angst, Dead May Parker - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Sorry May, Stargazing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, but she's there in spirit i promise, fanmail, spiderson, spot the comic book reference, that's right it's biodad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackwatchandromeda/pseuds/blackwatchandromeda
Summary: "It's from your mom," Tony blurts out. "I'm - fuck, she's saying you're my kid. My - my kid."Peter goes silent, suddenly freezing. When Tony looks up, he's staring at him."What?" Peter whispers.- - -While going through old Iron Man fanmail, Tony finds a letter from Mary Fitzpatrick dated sixteen years ago. What's inside is something neither Tony nor Peter is expecting, and it threatens to change their relationship irreversibly.





	it traced us back (to where we began)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm currently in the middle of exams that will decide my entire future, but the plot bunny bit me and so i decided to quickly work it out as a one-shot. so!!
> 
> the title is from i found a way (first aid kit) which is a song i absolutely adore. if you haven't heard it yet, i'd recommend giving it a listen.
> 
> in this, may has been dead for nearly a month. it's set in the timeframe after homecoming. i'm ignoring infinity war and endgame completely (for obvious reasons). it kind of sprouted from thinking about if peter's reaction was different to how i've seen it commonly portrayed, so i hope it winds up enjoyable!
> 
> finally, i scattered a bunch of comic book references throughout the first part of this! if anyone spots them all, ily.

It's a late, sunny Saturday afternoon, and Tony and Peter are going through fanmail.

That morning, according to Peter, a little girl had waved Spider-Man down on patrol and shyly handed him a crinkled drawing. She'd thanked him for saving her father a while ago, and Peter (being Peter) had near-teared up and given her a hug. He swung in to the Tower earlier, after his morning patrol, clutching it tightly in one hand and heading straight for Tony.

"Look, Mr. Stark!"

Peter had brandished the drawing in Tony's face, a colorful crayon artwork featuring a stick-figure Spider-Man holding misshapen hands with, presumably, the girl who gave it to him. Her curly hair spiraled across the page, the dark crayon squiggles cutting into the overly-rounded representation of her dad. A bright rainbow stretched above them all, framed by fluffy clouds at either end.

"It's so sweet," Peter said, hugging it tight to his chest and smiling broadly. "It means a lot, you know? And - she didn't even look that old, Mr. Stark, but she still took the time to draw it and it's _really_ good!"

Tony had smiled back, Peter's infectious enthusiasm making him grin. "You do a lot for the city, kid. A lot of people owe a hell of a debt to you."

Peter had shrugged. "No, they don't. Nobody owes me for saving their family. It's, like - it's just what you should do, right? You have to help if you can. And I can."

_That's why you're such a good person, kid_ , Tony thought to himself. He'd reached out to ruffle the kid's hair, and Peter had quickly ducked away with red cheeks.

"Mr. _Stark_ ," he complained.

"You know you love it when I do that, Pete," Tony had retorted, smirking. Peter laughed, and they both spent another few moments staring at the drawing.

"Do you ever get drawings?" Peter asked suddenly, and Tony had glanced up to look at him, brow furrowing. "Or - or letters, or anything?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "More than you can count." During the first week after announcing himself as Iron Man, and then the time straight after the Battle of New York, the Tower had been near-flooded with mail. Some of it was aggressive, blaming Tony and his fellow Avengers for loss of lives and property damage, but the overwhelming majority of letters were thankful or positive.

"Have you ever looked at them?" Peter asked.

Tony hummed for a second, thinking. "You know what? I don't think I have. I used to get so many that we just... shoved them out of the way after a point."

Peter had grinned. "Where?"

He'd got Tony to dig out the piles of old fanmail from the Tower basement, taking a random selection of boxes and bags back up to the couch with them; it led to now, with both of them sitting on the floor, reading through Tony's old mail.

" _Dear Iron Man_ ," Peter reads aloud, holding up a small A5 page, " _I think you are the bestest Avenger. I want to build a suit like you when I grow up, except it will be green because I really like green. From Arno_ \- and look, Mr. Stark, there's a drawing, that's so _cute_ -"

Peter scrambles closer to show Tony the tiny decal of a kid-sized, neon green Iron Man suit flying right next to a bigger model, presumably Tony if the more traditional colors are anything to go by. The scribbled patch of sky they're sailing through is a bright, childish cyan.

Tony grins. "He's right, you know. I am the bestest."

Peter laughs. "Clearly, Mr. Stark. Perfect grammar, and everything."

Tony swats lightly at his head and Peter dodges, still laughing as he sits back down cross-legged and reaches for another letter.

"Here's one," Tony begins, looking down at the small, ragged piece of cardboard in his hand. " _Iron Man is the coolest. From Jude_. Nicely put."

"Wow, this one's an essay," Peter says, making a face at the sheet he's holding. Tony catches a glimpse of dense, small handwriting, neatly written in tight rows across the page. "Someone really liked you, Mr. Stark. _Love_ \- oh, God," he trails off, blushing slightly.

Tony raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Peter says, slightly squeakily, and Tony reaches out to snatch the paper from him. He takes it and Peter makes an aborted grab to get it back, whining slightly. "Mr. _Stark_ , please -"

" _Love from Peter Parker, your number one fan_ ," Tony recites, and looks up to see Peter burying his face in his hands. "Underoos, this is adorable."

"Don't," Peter grumbles, voice slightly muffled.

"I'm going to frame this."

"I swear, Mr. Stark -"

"It's going on the wall. No takebacks, _number one fan_."

Peter levels him with a stony gaze. "Not funny," he says.

Tony honestly does try to hold in his shit-eating grin. Unfortunately, it bursts out in the form of loud laughter. "It's pretty funny, Pete. I didn't realize you liked me so much."

Peter huffs slightly, though he's smiling now. "'Course I liked you, Mr. Stark. Iron Man was the best. And - and Tony Stark, as well. You were..." He makes a vague gesture with his hand. "You know. Double cool. I liked both your identities."

Tony grins. "Thanks, kid. I like both your identities, too."

Peter flushes even more, but a wide smile spreads across his face. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."

Tony puts Peter's letter to one side, laying the old paper down carefully before reaching for another.

_Tony,_

_I saw you save New York on the news. You look so sexy in that armor. I want to -_

" _Oooo_ kay," Tony says, elongating the 'o'. "Jesus _Christ_. Let's... burn that and never, ever think about it again."

Peter leans forward. "Can I see?"

"No." Tony grimaces. "Trust me, kid, you do not want to read that. And it's too mature for you, anyway."

Peter raises an eyebrow at him. "I'll just find another one in the pile."

"You do that and I'll show everyone you know that letter."

"Touché. Okay," Peter continues, holding up another letter, "how about this one?"

Tony reaches out in front of him, rifling through the messy sprawl of paper between them. They're all similar, after a point; whether they're handwritten letters or drawings from budding preschool artists, the mail blends together into one. The few exceptions to the norm are the old letters from before Afghanistan, calling on him to shut down his weapons manufacturing. They date all the way back to the late nineties, and distantly Tony wonders just how long he's been ignoring mail from the public.

" _Dear Iron Man_ ," Peter reads, " _My name is Amanda and you probably don't remember me, but I am nine years old and you saved my life in New York_."

He carries on sifting through the pile, a warm feeling blooming in his chest as Peter speaks. His fingers card past a vivid purple representation of the Avengers complete with a bright violet Hulk, an irregularly-spaced letter with a shaky alphabet, and a more formal-looking, typed document. He pauses.

" _I wanted to say thank you, because I really like being alive and I think my mom would be sad if I wasn't_."

Tony frowns, and picks up the typed letter. It's unlike any of his other fanmail, and it looks like it's on proper stationery. The logo at the top of the document is Oscorp's, though it looks like the old one. He seems to recall it was used around the turn of the century, before they swapped their branding to appear more mad scientist-esque (in Tony's opinion). It's dated formally, with a proper address, and Tony gets a slightly heavy feeling in his gut as he fiddles with the edge of the page.

"How'd this get in here?" he murmurs. It looks too official to be ignored with the rest of these letters.

"What?" Peter asks, pausing his recitation.

"Nothing," Tony says, waving a hand. "Keep going."

Peter pauses, before he shrugs. "Yeah, okay. _Please tell everyone on your team that I am really grateful_."

Tony scans the letter one more time; then, he starts reading it properly.

_Dear Tony,_

_I suppose it's too late to tell you this, but I feel you should know. In case you're wondering, I'm not expecting anything from this letter. You'll probably think I'm lying, but that's fine by me. I don't expect you to pay, or anything like that._

There's a sinking feeling in his chest.

" _I hope I get to meet you in the future. Love, Amanda_. Aww, she seems really sweet, Mr. Stark!"

_Do you remember the party we had seven weeks ago at Stark Industries? If it jogs your memory, you said I should 'jump ship to SI and leave that little bitch Osborn behind'. I didn't accept. We went upstairs, and I'd hope you remember what happened next._

He does. God, he does. It was back in his playboy days, when he took part in more one-night stands than business deals: and there were a _lot_ of business deals back then. He vaguely remembers the girl he was with that night: Mary, her name was.

"This one's more recent, I think. This girl's called Riri."

_Anyway, I'll get to the point. We weren't careful enough, Tony. I took a test, and the dates match up. I'm pregnant. It has to be yours._

"You saved her in Massachusetts, apparently. What were you doing in Massachusetts?"

_I'm dating someone else at the moment, so I'll be supported. Richard knows; I told him. I expect you'll move on quickly from this, if you ever read it, but I thought I'd share my ideas with you. Obadiah promised he'd show you the letter, so maybe you can come and visit, if you're interested._

Obie's still fucking him over, even from beyond the grave, it seems. He probably threw this _very important communication_  for Tony Starkin the basement, losing it among the burgeoning piles of mail. Goddamnit, he should have seen this years ago.

"That's a long way from New York, isn't it?"

_I want to call him Peter, if he's a boy, or Teresa if she's a girl. My number is at the bottom of this page, if you want to talk. All the best, Tony._

_Yours,_

_Mary Fitzpatrick_

"Mr. Stark?"

"What was your mom called?" Tony asks. His voice sounds hoarse even to him, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears.

"What? Uh, Mary Parker." Peter sounds uncertain. "Her maiden name was Fitzpatrick, though."

_Peter for a boy._

The dates match.

_Fuck._

"Oh, _Jesus_ ," Tony swears, and Peter's face goes serious immediately.

"What's wrong, Mr. Stark? Are you okay? What -"

"Your mom," Tony blurts out, eyes focused on Mary's letter, gripping it tight enough to tear. "She - I - fuck, Peter, I -"

"Mr. Stark, just breathe -"

_I'm pregnant. It has to be yours._

"Fuck," Tony curses out loud, and Peter's brow furrows further as he comes closer.

"Mr. Stark, it's okay, we'll fix... whatever this is," he says quickly, trying to reassure Tony. It's not working, though, and he can't calm down from the panic inside him. "What's - what is it? Can I -"

"It's from your mom," Tony blurts out. "I'm - fuck, she's saying you're my kid. My - _my kid_."

Peter goes silent, suddenly freezing. When Tony looks up, he's staring at him.

"What?" Peter whispers. His face is pale, slack, his eyes wide. They're full of horror. A yawning pit opens up in Tony's stomach.

"This letter, I've never seen it, but - it got in this goddamn pile, and it says - _shit_ ," Tony stammers out, hands trembling. Fuck. _Fuck_. He didn't know. All these years, and he didn't _know_ -

"No way," Peter breathes, drawing back from Tony. "No way, I - _no_ ," he chokes out.

Tony recognizes the trapped look in Peter's panicked gaze. The kid is tense all over, fists balled tightly. "Pete -"

" _Don't_ ," Peter blurts, and then he's scrambling to his feet and snatching up his mask and running towards the open window. Tony's heart lurches with worry.

"Pete!" Tony shouts after him, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to chase after the kid. "Peter, wait!"

Peter jumps through the window as he pulls the Spider-Man mask, and then he's swinging away at top speed and Tony is left standing, frozen, alone, surrounded by letters and drawings from people he'll never meet again. He takes a shuddering breath, forcing himself to let go of Mary's letter. It falls to the floor slowly, swept off-course by air currents. Tony flexes his hands - _in, out_. He's Peter's father. Peter is his son.

Peter ran away the moment he found out.

It's clear that the news was awful for the kid; Tony doesn't blame him. He's not fit to be a parent, no matter how much he's been trying to take care of Peter since May's death. It doesn't come naturally to him. It's no wonder Peter's upset. A wave of dizziness sweeps him and, distantly, Tony realizes he's starting to panic.  _Keep breathing, dumbass_ , he chides himself, mentally forcing his lungs to slow down and keep moving. He can't afford to lose it now. He needs to go find Peter, as soon as possible.

"FRI," Tony says, keeping his voice level, "I need a suit."

" _On it, Boss_ ," she says from above.

"Can you track Peter's location for me?"

There's a brief pause before FRIDAY speaks again. " _I can't, Boss. Peter's mask has been removed_."

"Shit," Tony mutters. It was the price to pay for Peter agreeing to keep any sort of tracker on him while crime-fighting; it had to be removable, so Tony added it to the Spider-Man mask. If the mask is off, the tracker doesn't have power. "Where was it last?"

" _The last registered location is in Queens_ ," FRIDAY tells him. " _I can send precise location data to your suit_ ," she offers, and at that moment the elevator at the far side of the room opens smoothly.

Tony flicks out a hand and metal zooms towards it, slamming into his forearm and spreading across it. Boots hit the ground and assemble around his feet, nickel-titanium alloy spiraling upwards to meet the heavy chestplate that flies into his torso with a thump. Tony spots the faceplate rushing at him, and turns to meet it straight-on. It flies into place with a low clunk, completing the metal suit surrounding him. The world goes dark for a second before it lights up again, the bright HUD stretching across his vision, and a tiny minimap fizzles into existence in the top left corner. Peter's last location is displayed as a glowing red dot a way away from Tony's slowly-pulsing white one.

"Thanks, FRI," Tony says, and launches himself out of the window into the air.

The map takes him to Queens, where it cuts out in a small alley off 42nd Street. Tony can't see any evidence of Peter's belongings here, so he guesses the kid's still wearing the suit. It means he can't have gone far with the mask off, not if he wants to protect his identity in any way, but Tony hasn't been able to track him down yet.

_What if something's happened?_

"Pete?" Tony calls cautiously, worry starting to bubble up in his chest. "Pete, kiddo, you there?"

There's no reply, just heavy silence that weighs like a smothering blanket on him. Tony swallows, and resolves to check all the nearby buildings. Rooftops, alcoves, alleyways: he searches them all before he finally finds Peter.

It's well into the late evening when Tony finally tracks him down: the kid is sitting on an all-too familiar roof. Really, this should have been the first place he checked. Peter's at the top of the old apartment building he used to live in with May, before he moved to the Tower with Tony. His suit is indeed still on, though his mask is lying discarded on his right. He's sitting on the edge of the roof, and worry surges through Tony at the sight. He lands with a clank on the ground, and Peter doesn't move. He doesn't even flinch at the sound of his arrival.

"Pete. _Peter_ , thank God," Tony says in a rush, coming closer to the edge. "Can you - can you come over here, kid? Further from the edge?"

"I don't want to," comes Peter's voice, impossibly small in the still air. His small frame is curled in on itself, hugging his knees tight to his chest as he looks outwards.

Tony pauses for a second before he takes a breath and disengages the suit. Cool air washes over him as he steps out, and he starts walking forward to swing his legs over the edge of the roof. Peter glances at him as he sits, but makes no other move towards him. The kid just keeps staring into the distance. Tony looks out over Queens, the dark night sky above them twinkling with faint stars. In this area, the light pollution's not strong enough to block out the starlight. Artificial lamps glow all across the landscape in front of them, glass-fronted skyscrapers in the distance reflecting the soft, warm light around them. The faint chirping of cicadas carries over to them. The breeze is gentle against Tony's skin. The world is quiet, here, and Tony sits with Peter and just _is_.

"I wasn't related to her," Peter says suddenly, brokenly. Tony knows exactly who he's talking about. It's barely been a month since May died, since Peter came to live with Tony, and he knows the kid is far from over it. "We're not even real family. She was - she was never my family. And I never knew, and now... she's _gone_. And so is Ben. They're - they're not even mine to mourn. I'm not even a Parker."

Tony's heart doubles, triples in weight listening to him. Peter sounds _wrecked_ , and guilt floods through Tony like a raging rapid. "Pete, I -"

"God, I wish I could - just _ask_  her. If she knew, or... if my mom never told anyone. Did - did Ben know? I..."

"I wish I had the answer for you, Pete," Tony says heavily. "But... I can tell you that if May knew? She didn't care."

"But -"

"Ignoring if she knew or if she didn't," Tony continues, "she raised you, Pete. And... your uncle was your dad's brother, right?"

Peter doesn't speak for one drawn-out moment. "I guess he wasn't my dad, but... yeah."

_Shit_. Tony winces internally, but his point is important and he forges onwards. "So... May was always only related to you by marriage. Some people don't consider that family."

"This isn't helping, Mr. Stark," Peter says, voice tired, and Tony has to agree internally. He's really struggling to get his damn point across.

"Shit, I - look, kiddo, the point is that May was _never_ related to you by blood. She still took you in, though, didn't she? She's still related to you, even if it's not the technical definition of a family member. You're still her kid. We choose our own families, Pete, I promise. My dad was a motherfucker, and he's not my family, but you know who is? Pepper. Rhodey. Bruce. They're about as closely related to me as you are to the Queen of England, Pete, but we're _family_. It doesn't end with blood. I _promise_ you. You're still a Parker, no matter what. And... _this_ doesn't have to change anything," Tony says, trying to encompass the nebulous sudden fatherhood he's found himself in with that one simple word, "if you don't want it to. You can choose if you make me family or not. That's your choice, kiddo."

"Don't be dumb," Peter responds quietly. "You're already my family."

Tony nearly chokes on the sudden warmth that surges in his chest, and he shuffles closer to the kid as he leans sideways. Peter's messy curls land on Tony's shoulder, and Tony puts an arm around him.

"I miss her," Peter whispers, still staring out to the night sky.

"I know, Pete. I know."

They sit in silence for a while, just looking out into the night. The air is crisp, though not cold, and Peter's slim body is warm against his. The city is quieter at night, though not completely silent; Tony can hear a distant honking from a couple blocks away, hear the hum of the twin ventilation turbines on the roof behind them. He wonders how much more Peter can hear with his enhanced senses. He wonders how the kid copes with it all.

"So, you're... you're my dad, then?"

"According to your mom, yeah," Tony answers, hugging him tighter. "Sorry I, uh... dropped it on you so fast."

Peter shrugs, head shifting slightly. "It's okay," he says. "You weren't expecting it, either." There's a pause. "Right?"

Tony pulls away slightly to look at him, and Peter raises his head. There's something unreadable in his eyes.

"Of course not," Tony says softly. "Kiddo, if I... if I'd known about you before, I would have come to see you. I would have... visited, or made sure you were okay, or... Peter, you're the best kid I know. The best kid in New York. I'm _damn_ proud you're my kid - that hasn't suddenly changed because of some letter. You were my kid long before today, Pete. Now it's just official."

Peter surges forward and presses his face into Tony's shoulder, and he clutches the kid equally tightly. "Thanks, Mr. Stark. I - I guess I can't call you that anymore, can I?"

"You can call me whatever you want, Pete. Mr. Stark, Tony, Dad if you really want to - hell, I'll even give you permission to call me Tony Stank if you really feel like it. Rhodey coined that one. _Hilarious_."

"I think I'll leave that one alone, Mr. Stark," Peter says, laughing slightly. He pulls away from the hug, just enough to uncover his face. His eyes are red-rimmed, Tony sees, like he's been crying. Instinct rises up in him: _make Peter feel better, as soon as possible_. "You know, uh... you know I'm not crying 'cause of you, right?"

Tony swallows. _No_. "'Course I do."

"Liar," Peter says. "I know you think it's because I'm upset you're my dad. But... if I had to find out that... my dad wasn't who I thought he was," he continues, looking down, "I'd want it to be you instead. You've already done so much for me, Mr. Stark. I'm not disappointed it's you. It's just... a lot, you know?"

Tony nods, throat tight. "Thanks, Pete," he says quietly, hugging Peter tighter against him. "You're a good kid, you know that?"

Peter smiles. "You tell me all the time."

"Good. It's true," Tony affirms.

Peter leans more heavily on Tony, and they lapse into silence once again. The time falls away as they sit together.

"You want to head back to the Tower, kiddo?" Tony asks eventually, voice soft. "Get some rest?"

"I..." Peter hesitates. "Can we stay out? For... a little bit longer?"

Tony gives him a half-smile. "Sure we can."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark."

Tony squints up towards the sky, staring. He's always been fascinated with stars, and them with him; he'd usually be panicking right now, thinking about the deep, yawning emptiness of the wormhole. Here with Peter, though, that falls away. He finds himself naming the faint constellations as he sees them.

"Have you ever stargazed, Pete?" he asks, and Peter jolts slightly.

"No. Do you... have you?"

Tony smiles. "Yeah. I used to love it. Had a big book full of stars when I was little, and everything."

Peter looks upwards beside him, eyes searching, and Tony raises his hand to point at the bright orange spark in the center of the shining tapestry laid out before them.

"That's Antares," Tony begins. "You can always tell, because... you see how it's that particular orange? Nothing else is that color. You can always use that to center yourself at this time of year, and then you just... branch out. See that star there? And the one next to it?"

Peter nods.

"Those two, and... all  _those_ ," Tony tells him, moving his finger to point at each faint star in turn, "they make a constellation with Antares. Scorpius. It's meant to be the constellation for the Scorpio sign, if you're into astrology."

"Nah," Peter says faintly. "I'm more of an astronomy guy, I think."

Tony smiles wryly. "A kid after my own heart," he says, but the joke falls flat in the face of their situation. He can almost feel Peter tense again beside him.

"Do you think May got to heaven?" Peter asks suddenly, and Tony turns to look at him. "Do you think she's up there? With the stars? She used to go to church, and stuff. Before Ben. And... she stopped, and I've never really been, but... do you think she made it, in the end?"

"Your aunt was one of the best people I've ever known, Pete," Tony says honestly. "If anyone's up there, it's her."

"I hope so," Peter whispers. "I... thank you, Tony," he says quietly, and Tony's heart swells with warmth. "For the stars, and for the suit, and... just for everything. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, kiddo. I'd do anything for you," Tony tells him softly. "I love you, Pete."

"Love you too, Mr. Stark," Peter responds, and Tony hugs him tighter.

A chill breeze sweeps over them then, and Tony gives a small, involuntary shiver.

"It's getting cold," he says, and Peter nods.

"Yeah, it is," he agrees. "We can, uh... go back now."

"Want to race?"

"You're on," Peter confirms, grinning widely. Tony pushes himself to his feet and Peter springs up, grabbing his mask and pointing his wrist towards the nearest wall.

"Woah, woah," Tony cautions, holding out a hand as Peter reaches out to fire his webshooters. "No cheating. You have to wait until I'm in the suit before we start." He quickly crosses over to the Iron Man suit, standing where he left it in the center of the rooftop, and the back opens up.

Peter pauses for a moment before shooting him a wicked grin. "Nah, I could use the head start," he snarks, and Tony throws himself into the suit. The HUD lights up just in time for Tony to see Peter leap off the roof, holding tight to his webbing. "Catch up, old man!" Peter hollers over his shoulder, throwing another web out.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony grumbles under his breath, smiling, and he points his palms down and blasts into the air after his son.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~then they go eat ice-cream and fall asleep watching a movie together~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this little one-shot! please feel free to leave kudos or a comment letting me know what you thought. thank you for reading!
> 
> find me on tumblr at [blackwatchandromeda](https://blackwatchandromeda.tumblr.com/)!


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